Page 66 of A Study of Blood and Ichor

Rory merely nodded.

I tugged the jacket from his shoulders. There was an odd weight to it, and it fell to the floor with a soft, dampened thud. I turned away to find some spare towels and to allow him some privacy to strip the rest of his clothes by himself.

Vain’s bathroom was obscenely large. I turned to the double vanity carved from a slab of black quartz and scoured the cabinets underneath. I grabbed a handful of fluffy towels and turned back to the shower only to find Rory sitting on the tiled floor directly under the showerhead, still fully clothed. His arms were propped on his knees, his head hung between them, allowing the steaming water to run over his neck.

I didn’t ask for permission before entering the shower with him, the hot water instantly plastering the thin fabric of my dress to my skin.

Rory didn’t object when I removed the tattered glove from his left hand or when I tugged the hem of his shirt and undid all the buttons to peel it away, exposing the slightly tanned skin of his chest and the dizzying number of tattoos crawling up both arms.

The water beneath him ran black, gray, and pink. Bits of flesh, both demon and human, slid down and settled above the drain. I nervously went to undo his belt, but as soon as my hand touched the buckle, he stiffened.

“I can do it.” His voice sounded hoarse, similar to the first time I heard it in the Hull.

I leaned against the wall to give him some space as he struggled to peel off his slacks and boxer-briefs, finally shucking them off and wadding them into a sopping pile in one corner.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

A pause. “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m fine.”

Rory tipped his head back against the tiles with a thunk. I watched the rivulets of water trace the soft ringlets of his dark hair, across his cheeks, racing down his jawline, dripping onto his very bare chest. He kept his eyes closed as he breathed in deep amongst the wafts of steam, keeping both legs tucked into his chest which shielded his lower half from view.

After a minute of heavy silence, Rory tried uncapping the shampoo bottle next to his head, but his hands shook so violently, he lost his grip. The plastic clattered loudly, skittering across the floor.

“Fuck,” he breathed out shakily. His Adam’s apple bobbed as if he were trying to hold back a strangled sob.

“Let me,” I said, more of a quiet request for permission than a statement.

Rory dipped his chin in silent agreement, still refusing to meet my gaze. I inched across the shower floor and shifted to my knees. I squeezed some shampoo into my palms and lathered it up, then began to massage the suds through his scalp with gentle fingers. The scent of spice and apples filled my nose, diluting the smell of the ichor. The water ran in varying shades of pink and gray, and I scrubbed and scoured until it finally ran clear.

“I was there for all of it.” He mumbled the words so softly that I almost didn’t realize he had spoken at all. I stopped moving and stared at him.

“What did you say?”

“I-I felt everything,” he said. “I…killed him.”

I squeezed my eyes shut at the memory of Vain tearing into Ilo’s vessel. The human hadn’t stood a chance.

“That wasn’t you, Rory. That was Vain.”

Rory lifted his gaze, his eyes sharpened with devastating anguish, and he clenched his hands into tight fists. “No, Ava. I…we both did. I wanted to kill him. Fuck, did I want to. And I’m not sorry about it.”

The slight tremble in his voice broke me, his words leaving me speechless.

“The second that demon captured you and shifted you away, Vain and I felt it. The pain was…unbearable.” A hard lump formed in my throat as Rory continued. “Vain found you thanks to the mark and when we saw you splayed on the ground with the demon forcing himself on you…I’ve never known anger like that before. Vain’s rage consumed mine. I didn’t care about Ilo’s vessel. I wanted to tear them—both of them—apart. And I was happy to do it. I enjoyed the feeling of their flesh under my nails, their blood on my skin. Because he had hurt you. So, I wanted him to hurt.”

“Rory…”

He rolled his head to the side and peered back at me through his hair.

“I don’t feel guilty for it. I should. But I don’t. The only thing we feel guilty about is putting you in danger in the first place. Vain can’t even look you in the eyes because he feels so heavy with it.” Rory swallowed. “Vain is blaming himself. He doesn’t want to see you hurt, Ava, ever again. And neither do I.”

All of the words I wanted to say got caught in my mouth. “It’s not either of your faults,” I reassured him.

Rory wrapped one hand around my wrist. Bands of ichor were still encrusted under his fingernails, and I couldn’t help but stare at where his knuckles had split from the repeated beatings Vain had delivered.

He brought his other hand up to my face in a gentle caress before his fingers combed through the wet strands of my hair. His eyes trailed across every inch of my face, and it felt almost as if he were looking at me for the first time.

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